


The Stalyan Issue

by MiraNova23



Category: Tangled (2010), Tangled: The Series (Cartoon)
Genre: Abusive Girlfriend, Abusive Relationships, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Cheating, Chuck references, Domestic Violence, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Infidelity, Light BDSM, Physical Abuse, loss of consciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-14 18:16:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16917852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiraNova23/pseuds/MiraNova23
Summary: "But I know what the big question is. Why, on Earth, would I ever want to marry Stalyan?"





	The Stalyan Issue

**Author's Note:**

> This is NOT 1st person! Just the lil intro narration is. This is, however, mostly an excerpt from my other fic, “Prison is a Marriage,” the beginning part of Chapter 2: Sentenced for Life. I'm publishing this separately to allow more people to read about my take on Stalyan and “Flynn's” previous relationship, without the warnings that accompany the rest of that longer fic. Again, this is purely all in the far past, from 10 to 8 years ago.

**The Stalyan Issue**

 

☼°*•∘❁✿❁∘•*°☼ ... ☼°*•∘❁✿❁∘•*°☼ ... ☼°*•∘❁✿❁∘•*°☼

 

_This... is the story of how I survived..._

This isn't a very fun story, but the truth is things weren't always that bad. This is my story, of my time with _another_ girl.

So, once upon a time, a sick baby boy was left on the steps of an orphanage. The old women there nursed him back to health, as they tried to raise the multitude of children as their own. They shared as much knowledge with the orphan children as they could, since there was rarely enough of anything else to go around. Nevertheless, they helped him grow into a strong, agile, bright-eyed young boy, who loved reading, and running, jumping, and climbing. But those books were everything to those kids, and that boy, he would read to the younger ones every night. He used those stories to escape to lives of adventure and grandeur. And all the while, he waited and waited, for one miracle or another; either for his, surely, swashbuckling parents to return for him, or to find a new home. But nobody ever came for him.

Well, years passed, and by the time he was a teenager, that's when he knew he was running out of time to be adopted. But rather than keep waiting around in hopes that one day his parents would return, he broke out of the orphanage with his best friend, stole what they could carry, and just like that, were gone...

Alright, you get the idea. Poor orphan boys, angry at the world, turn to a life of crime to get by, hoping to strike it rich. Pathetic, right?

That... was me. Eugene Fitzherbert. Well, that was before I started going by an alias from the, much more honorable, do-gooder hero of my favorite book series, _Flynn Rider..._

☼°*•∘❁✿❁∘•*°☼ ... ☼°*•∘❁✿❁∘•*°☼ ... ☼°*•∘❁✿❁∘•*°☼

_10 Years Ago_

Cool and steady with a sly grin, Eugene crept around the outside of the huge stone building; a small castle, really. It was midnight, with no moonlight to reflect back off of his exposed hairless face and arms or his long white shirt sleeves. Brown hair, just past shoulder length, was tied back out of the way. His front-laced teal vest blended in with the darkest blue of the night; brown pants with the dirt and sandstone of the stone. Well-worn but maintained, earthy leather boots were silent as he eased each foot through the soft grass. Although, if he were to get caught, it would only serve to stroke his ego and hubris. After all, it was no fun if there was no challenge, and no glory if no one knew it was him.

He had memorized the map depicting where the _alleged_ treasure-trove cellar, of the crime family patriarch known only as The Baron, was located, and how to get into it. The only worrisome thing left was that the guards did not seem to be following their usual patrols, but instead seemed to be actively looking for something, and seemed to know exactly what they were looking for. Eugene kept a close eye on them, but they had not noticed anything that would pose a threat to impeding him in his quest.

Suddenly, the guards became alerted to a disturbance, right where Eugene had been aiming to get inside. It was a hidden set of steep steps leading down to well-disguised door. Now, however, there was light pouring out of it and guards running directly toward it. _Aw, nuts… Did someone really JUST BARELY beat me to it?!_

Calling a tactful retreat for the night, Eugene turned around to head back the opposite direction. He carefully timed his sprints according to the calamity around the door and other guards rushing to help. One was about to be running too close to a line of sight with him, so he quickly looked around for anything to use for cover. The large shed he was crouched against had an ajar door he should be able to slip in undetected, and he did just that, just in time. He closed the door behind him, and bolted the small lock. In a minute, he should be able to slip back out and continue on his way.

“ _What?!_ ” a feminine voice behind him hissed. “Who are _you?!_ ”

His face quirked in utter confusion as he slowly turned around. In the pitch dark, he could not see even his hand in front of his face. “Can I help you?” he whispered rather sarcastically to the other voice. “Uhhh _Miss?_ What are you _doing_ in here?”

“What am _I_ doing in here? What are _you_ doing in here?!”

“I’m-” He had not expected to be caught by someone who had no idea of his nefarious intentions. He still had a shot at playing innocent. “I’m uh- gardener. Yeah, uh, hah, I broke a few of my tools earlier today, and I wanted to get them fixed up before tomorrow.”

“A gardener? Really?”

“Yeah,” Eugene softly laughed off the mocking he suspected. “I know, silly me. And I- hah, I don’t know _where_ my lantern is.”

The woman scoffed. “Good thing for that.”

Eugene smirked. The woman sounded young, and his mind was keen to leap to what they could do together in the dark. “Ohhh, yeah?” he purred, “And why’s that?”

“Because this is a weapons shed.”

Eugene gulped. “Oh…” he nervously lost his voice, still trying to laugh it off. “Whoops, heh, I get these sheds mixed up sometimes. Uh, what kind of, weapons? The uh- the _pointy_ kind?”

“ _And_ gunpowder and explosives.”

He took a step back towards the door, dilated eyes futilely searching in the dark, trying to see, and hoping _not_ to see any spark of light. “Then _really,_ what are you doing here? Who are you?”

“You- you don’t know who I am?”

_Oh, shit. Some girl_ I _should know?!_ He cleared his throat. “Well, Darlin’, I never forget a face, but I can’t quite see your lovely _anything_ in here.” _I’m usually good with voices, too, but…?_

She hummed at him, intrigued. “Well, then all you need to know is I’m running away.”

Again, he was taken aback as the answers she gave only led to more questions for him. “Running away? From who?”

“Ugh, will you shut up?! We’re supposed to be hiding!” she hissed a little louder than was wise.

Calls for men to check out the weapons shed were shouted about, and they both groaned. Then, in unison to each other, shot out an annoyed declaration. “They’re after me-” They froze. “They’re after you-?!”

The mysterious woman finally stepped up close enough to Eugene for him to audibly approximate her presence; right in front of his chest. Their exchange quickened as they heard the guards nearing. “Listen, my father is the Baron.”

“ _You’re_ the _Baron’s_ daughter?!”

She scoffed. “ _Yes…_ He’s just super over-protective.”

All Eugene heard was a beautiful challenge, and his imagination was already well on its way to weaving this wrong-side-of-the-tracks story, wrought with forbidden love, ending with him whisking her off into the sunset. Although, after that victory, the story ended abruptly. “Well, given your hobbies of hiding out in weapons sheds, I can’t say I blame him. So but wait, you don’t know who _I_ am?”

“Thought you were a _gardener?_ ” she said sarcastically.

“The _name’s_ Flynn Rider.”

“Stalyan.”

“Heh, well, I don’t mean to toot my own-”

“ _My_ _name_ is Stalyan.”

Internally, he had to laugh. _What’s your mother’s name? Mustang?!_ But he simply smouldered in her direction, even in the dark. “So, _Stalyan,_ if you’re running away from your dad, why are you hiding out in this shed?”

Suddenly, someone tugged on the locked door. _“Why is this door locked?!”_ their nasally voice cried in frustration.

Eugene gulped. “Or better yet, will you tell your dad that I’m-”

“A gardener,” she finished, nodding. She, too, sounded scared, but ready and willing to join forces.

“Right,” he nodded too. “And you’re?”

Outside, someone called for tools to get the door opened.

Flustered and cornered, she gasped, “Gimme a kiss.”

Eugene blanched. “Wait, I’m sorry, _what?!_ Right now? I can’t even _see_ you! How am I supposed to-”

“Flynn!” she hissed and demanded again, “Kiss me now!”

Every red flag went off in Eugene’s head, but also painted his cheeks red. _I know what she’s thinking, but if she’s_ the Baron’s _daughter- do I reeeally wanna get involved?!_ He stuttered out an awkward lie, “I-I’m not really good with _PDA-_ ” Besides the commotion outside, Eugene could have sworn he heard fabric rustling and some kind of clasps or buttons popping. “What- What’re you doing?”

She answered him by grabbing the neckline of his shirt and sweeping his legs out from beneath him. “ _WHOA_ _~UH_ _!_ ” he yelled out as he felt himself falling and smacking the hard dirt flat on his back. The fluid motion was executed perfectly to leave her straddling him on the ground. The next thing he knew, her lips were interlocked with his. Her hands rested one propping herself up on his chest, the other behind his neck.

It was the first time both his brain and body forgot he was even on a mission.

The door opened to remind him of their surroundings. Exposed by torchlight, the bystanders collectively groaned.

“ _Welllll,_ ” a thin weaselly man dressed in black drew out in a slimy British accent. “Girl on top, hm. With you, Dear, I can’t say that I’m surprised.”

Stalyan put on a sheepish face and hesitatingly looked up from being pressed against Eugene’s face. “ _Hi,_ Anthony,” she said with innocent familiarity. She knelt up and sat back on him.

Eugene’s eyes fluttered into focus, hands up beside his head, looking up at the beauty hovering above him, backlit by the torches. Long soft curls looked brunette in the dark, and her slender face looked adorably embarrassed. He had already felt how lush her lips were. Her eyes looked dark and smoky, and while he could not tell their color, the gleam of the torch fire in them was entrancing enough. Her weight was comfortably planted on his pelvis, her flowing red skirt bunched up around her knees, draped over his torso. He spotted what he had heard before: a black jacket discarded, and a white barmaid blouse unbuttoned down between her breasts all the way to the underbust cincher or bustier. His lips remained parted as his mouth had simply fallen open.

“MISS Stalyan,” Anthony scolded exasperatedly. “When your _father_ hears about your latest stunt, I doubt he will take kindly to hearing about additional exploits with your boy toy.”

She blushed and dipped her head toward the crowd of men. They shook their heads and sighed as they dispersed back to their posts and other duties. Anthony gripped Stalyan’s arm and hauled her to her feet as she grunted. Once she was standing firm, she whipped her arm away. She reached out toward Eugene on the ground. “My jacket.”

“Huh? Oh!” He sat up and handed her the long jacket, while his hungry eyes watched her fix the short skirt.

“Thanks.”

Anthony handed her his torch and glared hard at her, but then let them be as he began to head back to a castle entrance.

Eugene stood up and dusted himself off. He darted his head around, checking that they were out of earshot again, then turned back to her.

“Sorry,” she cringed, “I had to act fast.”

“You mind tellin’ me what’s goin’ on here?”

She sighed as her shoulders fell. “Like I said, I was _trying_ to run away.” She looked back into the darkness of the shed, squinting.

Eugene’s brow quirked. “But your father’s the _Baron._ Why would you want to run away?”

She scoffed and rolled her eyes with a smug smirk. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Slick cockiness came over his expression. “Nah, try me.”

“Well,” she drew out seductively as she leaned in again. “It’s a _long_ story.”

“I got time,” Eugene shrugged and dipped his head to her.

Stalyan sighed, getting aggravated. “What did you say your name was?”

Eugene hmphed, offended that she had so easily forgotten. “Flynn Rider.”

She held the torch up closer, evenly between them. Suddenly, she scoffed, pleasantly surprised this time. “ _You’re_ Flynn Rider?”

“The one and only. Pleasure to be met.” He cockily crossed his arms in front of himself.

“Mmm _well,_ ” her tune changed. “The _pleasure_ is all _mine._ I’ve gotta hand it to ya, you’re _awfully_ more handsome in person. How old are you exactly?”

Eugene actually deflated a little, and looked down to self-consciously touch his nose. “17, but yeah, the posters don’t do me _any_ ‘justice.’” She chuckled flirtatiously again, but as Eugene had his head slightly turned down, and with her holding the torch up better, something in the darkness of the shed glinted and caught his eye. He forgot about his nose and his full attention redirected toward the glitter. “What is that?” He turned back to Stalyan.

Suddenly she was frowning and glaring at him strangely.

He narrowed a glare right back at her, with a knowing smirk. “Why you _sly_ little _bête noire!_ You-”

“Do you wanna go up to my room?” she aggressively interrupted him, as directly as she could.

Eugene conspicuously bit his lip as he grinned but shook his head in delicious disbelief. “ _Ab-so-lutely._ ”

Her smirk returned. “We’ll come back for that _tomorrow morning,_ ” she winked. She took his hand and led him to the door Anthony waited for them at.

“Anthony,” Stalyan directed, “This is Flynn Rider. My, uh, _guest._ ”

Eugene gave him a shit-eating grin, and donned a British accent to mimic his. “Aye, there, _Tony,_ ol’ chap _._ ” He dipped his head to him. “Lovely night.”

Anthony threateningly smiled back at him. “That’ll be Mr. DeWesel to you.”

“Doesn’t that just mean _The Weasel?_ ” he chuckled, misplacing the accent by the end, “Huh, I mean am I _right?_ ”

“Hm,” he set his jaw at him. “Miss Stalyan, see that you keep this one in line.”

She sighed, while smirking approvingly at her new catch. “Don’t worry, Anthony.”

“Cheerio!” Eugene saluted him with two fingers, before Stalyan yanked him away.

* * *

_This is the story of the best night of my life…!_

As soon as they entered a stairwell, Eugene turned their walking handsyness into swinging her around against a wall. He pressed himself up against her, including his lips all over hers again. “Talk to me baby girl,” he stole some more licks on her neck and around her ear. One hand was already massaging a breast. “You not gonna get me in trouble with daddy, are you?”

Her devilish grin was in heaven. “Not if you’ll help me get into some _trouble._ ” She grabbed his larger belt buckle.

He instinctively grabbed her wrist. “All well and good Sweet, but I didn’t get to be an expert by letting people steal from _me._ ” It was the belt his change purse was attached to.

She hmphed, but purred, “Lower then?” as her hand illustrated.

He smirked with his mouth still open, drifting back in toward her face. He leaned into her, making her feel him pulse for her. “You’re _not_ a virgin, are you?”

“Please, don’t insult me,” she threw her hair back and side-eyed him playfully.

They smirked at each other before crashing back together and rolling over so Eugene’s back was against the wall, still feeling each other up. Suddenly, she pushed off and pranced up a few steps, dragging him by the arm behind her. He was all too happy to trip up the stairs after her.

A couple stories and hallways later, she opened a door she had him pushed up against. They stumbled in, Stalyan walking Eugene backwards. Connected by tongues and exploring hands, they spun, until she shoved him onto the bed. He yelled out a bit, but caught himself on his elbows, while his legs flew wide.

“Ah, you might wanna,” he pointed to the knot in the cord lacing his vest in front, “Get that first.” He cocked his eyebrows as she considered him.

“That’s okay,” she said mysteriously. Eugene watched with wide eyes as she swung one high-heeled boot up onto the bed, right between his legs. Her skirt slid down her thigh back toward her waist, giving him a double show. Out of the knee-high black leather boot, she pulled a knife.

“Whoa- hoh!” He flinched away from her, but otherwise froze, barely breathing. “Hey- hey-”

Stalyan merely smirked at him, then slid it up the criss-crossed cords laced across his chest. They each snapped upon contact with the sharp blade, leaving the panels of his vest to fall to his sides.

Once the false alarm was quelled, he huffed a laugh. “That’s- _awesome_ ,” he said with an impressed smile, “Aaand a _little_ disturbing…”

She nodded as she stepped back and unhooked her own underbust bustier and dropped it. “I’ve got some _naughty_ moves of my own.” He bit his lip and she smiled deliciously. She gripped his thighs and pushed them together, so her knees could slink back onto the bed, straddling him. Slowly, she descended upon his lips again, as he waited, watching her approach.

Hands were set free to wander once more, as Stalyan shifted to laying rightways on her bed, on her back. She leaned back on her elbows and pulled one leg up, tossed her loose hair around and crooked her finger to beckon him.

By the candlelight, she watched him pull off his white shirt. Tanned chest and six-pack abs cast their own soft shadows across themselves. Painstakingly slowly, he removed his belt and opened his pants. He leaned over her, on thick sinewy arms. Flexors and triceps and deltoids all tweaked, each with their own allure, controlling his own full weight like it was nothing. She missed the show rippling through his strapping back.

He pulled her to sit up beneath him as he kneeled above her. They watched each other’s chests as he unbuttoned her white barmaid top, and she ran her hands over him. He whipped it off of her as soon as possible, then dove to cupping one freed breast and thumbing the nipple, as his face fed on the other. His other arm braced her back as Stalyan threw her head back and moaned out. She had found a man who could tell exactly what she wanted, and who she could _tell_ to _do_ exactly what she wanted.

She suddenly flipped Eugene onto his back without breaking the deep kiss, while pinning his wrists above his shoulders. His fingers wriggled and the corners of his lips curled into a smile. She ground on him, feeling him fully ready and gyrating back to meet her. She crawled backwards, her mouth blazing a trail of kisses with no strings attached all the way down his body as he panted. At his waistline, she set to removing his opened pants, as he helped. Very soon they were gone, and she was already getting acquainted. His hands played in her hair as he moaned at her taking control of him. She pushed his hands away, took one big suck off of his tip, then tried a command. “Arms above your head.”

Eugene flopped them up into grabbing at the plump feather pillows surrounding his head as he writhed and stretched at the sensations.

Stalyan grinned, then decided to reinforce it. She took one long lick up the entire underside of his length.

He moaned out some more, threw his head back and squirmed, but he kept his arms put.

She continued, but eventually, he did reach and grab at her neck. He was done with that foreplay, but she had other plans.

“Lemme get you,” Eugene offered.

“No,” Stalyan answered, sweet and confident.

He blinked a double take. “Oh, well, uh, okay.” He leaned away, unsure of what to do.

She cleared up any confusion when she climbed back onto him. She sank right down on him like a saddle, with smiles and moans all around, each crying out at their own individual pleasure. Together like that, they rode on to the sunrise, all night long.

* * *

“Flynnnn...” Stalyan leaned on his arm, kissing his shoulder and playing with his hair. “Flynn.”

Eugene felt his arm jostled hard, but he smiled, recalling the previous night's events that led to him now sleeping on cloud 9 here, instead of the ground. “Huh?”

“Wake up,” she whined.

“I’m awake, I’m awake.” Eyes closed, he rolled back over and shoved his face deep in the fluffy feather pillow, grinning ear to ear.

“My dad wants to see you.”

His eyes popped open and arms popped him up off the bed. But his legs got tangled, wrapped in the sheet, and instead of hopping out of bed, he fell to the floor; legs still held up by the sheet.

Stalyan covered her mouth as she laughed at him.

* * *

Eugene stood at attention in the Baron’s office, arms behind his back, nervously staring yesterday’s target in the face. His peasant shirt hung loosely around him, and she had replaced the cord for his ruined vest. He cleared his throat, bittersweetly aware of the tingle left in his skin as he did so, from the bruises and bites and scratches left all over his neck and chest. Stalyan had swiped a cravat off of someone for him. The pale green and poor material matched the quality of the rest of his outfit. Tied _a la Byron_ , it covered any marks, allowing his face to remain at least appearing stern and coolly confident.

“Flynn Rider. We’ve been following your success thus far, and my daughter thinks you’re quite, _skilled._ ” The Baron pressed his fingertips together. “So, tell me. What is it you want?”

“Existentially?” He shot him a cocky look and shrugged. “Like acceptance, pride, that sort of thing? Or are we talking more practically, like money, private island?”

“Your, _career._ ” He smiled sinisterly. “How do you plan to achieve any of that with what you’re running around doing?” He huffed at him. “At your rate, how long do you reckon that’ll take? 5 years? 10 years?”

Eugene frowned. “We’re doing just fine, _thanks._ Even if it does take 10 years, just you wait and see where I am then.”

The Baron seemed strangely more pleased than before. “You’ll be dead before that.”

Eugene was taken aback, insulted.

“And who’s _‘we?’_ ”

“Ah,” he blinked, quickly processing. _Looks like a good chance for us, Lance! Here’s hopin’ you agree!_ “My partner.”

“Hm. Anyway,” the Baron reasoned, tossing his hands up and apart, “I do, however, have openings to take you onboard, working under Anthony. Now, do you, and perhaps your partner, want the opportunity to work with the largest _network_ , in the Seven Kingdoms? Or are you going to walk away, leaving me _worried_ about you running your mouth?”

Eugene turned shocked at the seemingly quick offer, and understood the alternative to agreeing, but was sold wholeheartedly. “I do, I do” he jumped to answering. He smirked, and dipped his head in respect. “I’m sorry, Sir. I absolutely do.”

“Well then,” The Baron smiled approvingly, “Your turn to show me what you can do.”

Eugene beamed with pride and ambition. He looked over to a smug Stalyan standing off to the side.

* * *

Stalyan slinked up to him, and ran her hands over his head, locking them behind his head. He leaned down to kiss her, and suddenly they were both devouring each other. “Ya know,” she whispered in between nipping on his ear, “You should cut your hair.”

“What?” Eugene wiggled away a bit to look at her. “Why?”

“And shave,” she chuckled, scratching at his heavy 5 o’clock shadow.

“Not all of it, though.” He ran his fingers over it down to the tip of his chin. “I’ve been thinking the smooth baby face makes me look too young…”

She shrugged, trying to look as cute as can be. “I just think you’d look better with short hair, smooth cheeks.”

“I _have_ been thinking about what my look should be, for when I really become famous. Or _infamous,_ I should say.”

“Aren’t thieves supposed to _not_ make themselves known?” she snarked.

“Well, I mean, what’s the point of being the best if nobody knows about it?”

“You know.” She smiled at him, slightly distracted as she fixed his cravat. Then she tugged on it as she rose up to her tiptoes, almost reaching his lips. “And so do I.”

He smiled appreciatively at her, but his disappointment still shone through. _But that’s not enough._

She rolled her eyes and sighed. “Okay, well, IF _Flynn Rider_ wants to be an ‘infamous icon,’ he’s gotta look the part.” She smiled seductively at him.

His crooked smile popped up. “Alright. But then some schmucko’s gonna have to make all new posters- although maybe that’s a good thing!” He giggled as they leaned back in to kiss again, but he teasingly pulled away at the last moment. “IF you can hook me up with new duds.”

“Done,” she waved it away.

“Except boots. Got these off this great cobbler in Corona, and-” She stole a kiss, interrupting him. “They’re-” She stole another one, and Eugene finally could not resist. “ _Hmumm…_ ”

* * *

“Eh? What do you think?” Eugene turned around for Lance, but as he did, his new bangs bounced over an eye. He paused and whipped his comb out of his brand new, bright teal leather doublet, and combed them directly back into the rest of his hair. Uncertain, he checked his reflection in a store window, and panicked at the funky pompadour that had given him. He quickly brushed them back down with his fingers. “ _These_ are gonna take some getting used to.” He jutted out his bottom lip and blew them up and away.

Lance held his chin as he considered his best friend’s new look. “Certainly screams _lethario._ ” He dipped his head and shrugged. “And it _does_ look more like what they describe Flynn Rider as wearing by book two.”

Eugene elbowed his side.

“ _Oof,_ ” Lance coughed, annoyed. “Yeah, yeah, looks good.”

Eugene eyed him carefully, then went back to checking the symmetry on what was left of his facial hair: a goatee and pencil thin mustache. He smirked and smouldered at his reflection, moving his lips around specifically to see how they reacted. “Yeah, _damn_ I look good!”

“So who’s this _giiirl?_ ” Lance waggled his eyebrows.

“All courtesy of M’Lady, daughter of the big daddy-o himself, _thee_ Baron. And IS she a big daddy’s girl, heh. Her _name_ is actually ‘Stalyan.’”

“Stalyan?” Under his breath though, he muttered to himself, “ _So that’s where you ran off to while I was stuck in a tree playing look-out._ ”

Eugene huffed with him and lowered his voice. “Yeah, I know, right? Maybe _she_ should get an alias.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, “And we thought ours were bad. So why so taken? Finally found yourself a brunette?”

“Not quite. Auburn.” He shrugged, “Least not a dumb blonde.”

“No, no, but her _father_ is the absolute bottom-feeding scum of the earth, so did you ever think maybe _you_ were dumb for getting us _both_ involved?”

Eugene just rolled his eyes and smirked, confident things were finally starting to go right. “ _Cam’on,_ we’re gonna be livin’ the dream!”

“Only reason _you’re_ okay with it is ‘cause of _her._ ” Lance sighed. “But just remember, if she’s payin’ for you, she wants somethin’ from you.”

“Oh, I think I know what she _wants_ from ME.” Hands on his hips, he cocked them.

Lance gave him a worried look, urging caution.

Eugene waved his comb around. “Besides, it’s not like she ain’t _givin’_ it, too!”

* * *

The mustache was gone as soon as Stalyan saw it, and had nearly snarled in disgust.

* * *

“Alriiight, hey! Hey, hey, mission accomplished! Hahah! And _that_ is how, I do _that!_ High fiiives!” He danced over to Stalyan with his hands up.

“FLYNN!” she screeched in admonition. “What the hell were you doing?!”

His hands and expression fell. “Alright, alright, that’s how _we_ do that, go _team_ …”

She continued to rattle off every unnecessary risk he took, things he failed to check, and how at any moment he seemed to be only thinking of himself, without regard for the group of them as a whole.

He hung his head, but had to interrupt her once she finally had scratched through the surface to his genuinely fragile self-esteem and accused him of not caring about _her._ “Alright! Listen, I’m- I’m sorry, okay? Look, I’m not used to working with you two yet. Usually it _is_ just me, or me and Lance. And this was never a _business_ for me before. It’s supposed to be _fun._ ”

“No, it is NOT _‘fun’_ and it is not okay! This isn’t some game. And you need to be _better._ ” She turned on her high heel, swishing her hair, and walked away.

Eugene bit the inside of his mouth and clenched a fist as he watched her.

* * *

“I _love you,_ ” she had muttered sweetly, for the first time that night -- for the first time in forever since it sounded sincerely directed at him. He had not thought he could fall any harder, but suddenly he was surrendering as instructed. “We have _ways_ of making you talk, Mr. Rider.”

He grinned. “Do your worst.”

Sweat made his hair stick to his forehead. His eyes had fallen shut, and his mouth open. He panted hard, as his heart had run away from him and his lungs could not keep up. His arms stretched up above him, hands limp, and swollen red on both sides of his wrists. Cloth-sheathed rope coiled around them, then criss-crossed around each other, securing them together and then to the headboard via more rope that some of his fingers weakly clung to. The rest of him was rather flushed as well, and on full display for her. She had stretched him out on her bed for her own pleasure, including the sadistic type.

Eugene had been wary of her suggestion, but his curious boner and her solicitation of his trust saw him agree to this about an hour ago. Since then, he had orgasmed two more times than he had ever thought possible, and kept his hips moving with energy he did not know he had. He felt his own product drying on his stomach and in between his thighs, all from the one singular time he had actually come completely.

She touched him again, and he hissed, twisting his hips away and pulling on the bonds of his wrists and ankles. He began groaning about being done, which quickly devolved into begging. She grabbed hold of him again anyway, and squeezed one more out of him, as he whined and coughed through tears. The only acknowledgment she gave his pleas was a sharp slap in the face, and the sting stirred a reaction from him which he did not fully understand. After only the second though, he was already in tears.

When she had had enough, she took to petting his face, whispering concessions, soothing and comforting him. She untied his wrists, and slowly helped him move them back down. “I love you,” she enchanted again.

His breathing remained heavy, but turned into sighs of relief as he came back down off the high. “God I love you, too, Stal… I love you, too...”

“Hm, maybe someday I’ll _surprise_ you with this.”

He fell asleep imagining what a sexy surprise it would be to wake up already spread and strapped, literally bound to her whim.

* * *

“No,” she laughed. “Flynn, _no._ ” Stalyan rolled back on the bed in their private train compartment. She held her wine glass steady, laughing, in the black and pink lace lingerie they had picked up in Paris just a couple weeks prior. “On a train? There’s no way!”

“No, really, watch!” Eugene plucked out four sizable jewels from the sackful they had collected from the Sultan of Pencosta. He tossed them up, one after another, and began juggling three, then four, then five.

Stalyan squealed in delight, laughing and cheering him on. Eventually he felt he had sufficiently showed off, he caught two in each hand. A large ruby he directed to roll down his arm before he popped it off his elbow, and it landed perfectly in her palms. Her eyes popped in surprise as she oohed at the dark sparkly red filling her hands.

“Anyway,” he slid onto the bed beside her. “Can’t wait til we get to _Spain._ ” He stared at her lips.

“Hmm,” she moved the ruby aside and curled a leg up to him. “It’ll be pretty, _hot_ this time of year.”

“Uh-huh,” Eugene bit his lip, watching her lustful eyes now, as she finished off her glass. “Sounds pretty _sultry._ ”

“Will probably be _steamy_ at night.”

“You can wear that fancy strapless sequin dress from Milan, eh? N’ _that_ , _I_ told _you_ that plan would work!” he pitched his voice playfully. “Miss I-told-you-the-jewels-were-worth-it! Heh, no faith in my skills.”

She nodded her concession and held up the empty glass to toast his success. “That went better than I thought it would. And now I have a one of a kind _Sophia Strahovski._ ”

“Gonna impress all the _señores,_ ” he dropped his voice to a low sultry rumble, slowly sauntering closer to her, “ _Y una muy buena noche para mííí._ ”

Finally, with an utterly infatuated grin, she grabbed his robe and pulled him over atop her, and he sampled the wine off her mouth.

After just a few seconds, though, he leaned back up. “Oh! And I just remembered! I need to tell you!” He clapped his hands and rubbed them together in anticipation. “ _Guueeess_ what’s going on while we’re there!”

She smiled but shook her head. “I don’t know, what?”

“Well, it’ll be a great pick-pocket crowd, and I’ll get to see one of my favorite- ah, well, do you know?”

She shook her head again, confused.

“My favorite fighter’s Rick Maurarder. Aaand, he’ll be in the Challenge of the Brave again! It’s being hosted there for just one big day, and we’re gonna be there!”

Stalyan’s expression fell. “Ugh.”

Eugene’s followed in the same direction. “What?”

“That’s such a stupid show.”

“First off, it’s not a show; it’s a competition-”

“It’s all fake and full of muscle-bound losers.”

“ _Hoh!_ ” Eugene scoffed. “Ho, ho WELL! You are certainly entitled to your _wrong_ opinion.”

“Only I’m _right,_ ” she scoffed back.

Eugene pursed his lips and stared at her hard. “Alright, how about I go and do something with you that I’m not particularly fond of? Hm? Compromise?”

She snickered under her breath. “Sure, Flynn. _Okay._ ”

* * *

A couple more weeks saw Eugene suffer through catering to her thrill-seeking whims...

“Cliff-diving?! You couldn’t’ve picked like a museum or somethin?!”

“‘Cause you _like_ museums. And besides, you promised!”

“Okay, granted, I like museums. But I did NOT _promise_ you anything. I never, _ever_ , make promises. Ever.” He watched as she ignored him. “...don’t we need ropes or something?”

“No,” she grinned.

His eyes bugged out. But, they survived.

...only to be shut down the morning of the Challenge.

“Are you ready?!” he bounded up to her, his change purse loaded, face painted, and giant sponge finger tucked under his arm. “I already got the tickets, but we better get there soon if we wanna get good seats.” Grinning ear to ear, he double checked his coins.

“Oh, um, well I was thinking. It’s too nice a day to be stuck inside of a hot stadium, watching big dumb men sweat.”

“Wha… But we had a deal!”

“Ohhh, comon! Look at that beautiful sky! This is such perfect day of summer weather for a picnic!”

“The sun’s not going anywhere.”

“Don’t you want to have a nice romantic picnic with me?”

“Any other day, yes! All week we’ve been, _enjoying_ each other, but this is the big day!”

The bickering continued in ascending volume, until Eugene threw his hands up.

“Alright, FINE! FINE! You win! I’ll go on the stupid picnic with you! I just, gotta go do this one thing.”

“Take your time.”

“Mm-HM.”

He did not return until much later that evening, with a half-eaten tub of popcorn, alone. She made sure he stayed alone that night.

* * *

“Flynn,” Anthony called antagonistically, “The Baron wants to see you.”

  
“Not now, Weasel,” Eugene replied, annoyed and brazenly patronizing. “Can't you see I'm with my lady? I apologize, Miss, this doesn’t usually happen during your dates around here, does it?”

Stalyan cooed, tucking her chin in flirtatiously, as Eugene playfully advanced in on her neck.

  
“ _Now_ , Flynn,” the Baron’s deep and wide baritone voice boomed over them all.

  
Eugene’s head snapped up at attention to the man’s absolute authority. “I was _just_ on my way to see you, that's crazy!”

She could see it in her father’s eyes, and how Eugene’s similarly avoided hers. “Flynn!” she whined. “You told them?!”

His expression was undeniably cornered. “I’m sorry, I just-”

“I can’t believe you talked to them before you even talked to me about it!”

He cringed. “Okay now that just makes it sound bad! Besides, you didn’t WANT to _talk_ about anything! And Lance said-”

“Lance?! Is there anybody you _haven’t told_ about our fight?!”

He shrank, guilty. “Well-” Suddenly his whole body jolted, and he was left confused why it felt like he was in fight mode while his hands were still on her waist. At last the sting settled in on his cheek. He lost his breath as he realized what had happened, then pursed his lips in a frown to hold tears back. _I just wanted to go see-- oh what does it matter… I need this- this protection. And she’s a girl._ She _can hit_ me… Still, he shoved her away a little, and turned away to wipe his eyes quickly and hold his cheek. _But if we’re going south then what’s the point?_ He glared back at her, not hiding his hurt. “Oh, that’s right, I almost forgot. You can’t trust anyone unless Daddy tells you to!”

“That is _so_ not true.”

“Oh isn’t it?” He stepped farther away himself. “And look at you now! I’m not like you, Stalyan, I can’t just turn my emotions on and off like a faucet! I _talk_ to my best friend when I’m _upset!_ Do you even _have_ ANY friends?!”

“Oh, ya know what? You go in there and you see whose side he takes. You _do_ need to control your feelings. Or you can go _cry_ ‘cause you can’t control yourself and see how far that gets you. Feelings get you killed, Flynn.”

“Urgh, fine!”  
  


“Fine!”  
  
“FINE!”  
  


“ _FINE!_ ”

* * *

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, WAIT. Hold up,” Lance waved his hands and shook his head. “You’re _still_ gonna go _back_ to her?”

They had gone out to discuss life and love while drowning both out, amidst getting familiar with some other unfamiliar ladies.

“ _Yeees,_ ” Eugene groaned in exasperation. “If I'm not there when she gets back, I’m screwed. And _not_ in the good way!”

Lance reclined back out. “I donno what you’re rushing for, though. You got time for another round. Maybe tell your troubles to one of these lovelies.”

Eugene rolled his eyes unseen, finished fixing his boot and stood.

“Let them lick your wounds. _Again,_ ” he chuckled.

Eugene smirked and snorted at his friend, but the woman he had paired off with now tried to hold him there. He smiled for her, indulged in a few more kisses and touches, but ultimately turned her around and sat her down on the bed as he pulled away. He left an extra coin in her hand. “Sorry, blondie. Not something you can figure out for me,” he shook his head and left.

* * *

For the first time since he had met her, Eugene had butterflies when he saw Stalyan. She met him at the lookout point for their next target; a shrub-covered cliff ridge overlooking the capital of Equis.

“Hey,” she smiled, uncertain. “Flynn, what’s all this?” She looked around at what looked more like a picnic than a thief’s reconnaissance base.

Eugene grinned, faking up his courage. “Oh, well, sorry but,” he shrugged it off like it was nothing, “You know, no one throws a stakeout like-” _Flynn Rider? Eugene Fitzherbert?_ “Well, like _me_ _._ ” He chuckled and smiled crookedly as they went in to kiss. “Ooh,” he noted a cut on her lip. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she smiled shyly and touched it. “Occupational hazard. I got the map though.”

“Thanks, thanks yeah. ” He smirked worriedly as he accepted it and gestured, “Well sit, sit.”

“Oh, uh, okay.” She smiled more fully, and blushed every so slightly. She sat cross-legged on the ground beside him, and accepted a glass of champagne.

“Stal, uh,” Eugene looked over to her, his hands fidgeting in his lap. “There’s… something I wanted to tell you.”

She huffed a laugh into her glass. “Oh, _no,_ Rider. You’re not gonna get all mushy on me are you?”

“Ahh- haha-” _Abort!_ He gave her another toothy, uneven smile as he chuckled with her. “Naw, naw, I just wanted to tell you, that…” He gulped and cleared his throat. “Stal, my real…” Adrenaline stole his voice, leaving him unsure when he could speak strongly again.

“Your real…?” She was staring at him now, impatiently waiting for him to go on. “What _is it_ , Flynn?”

He winced. _Eugene…_ He took a deep breath. _My real name is Eugene..._ With furrowed brow, Eugene looked all around in her eyes, but found nothing comforting. He gulped again, then deflated. _I can’t..._ “I’m sorry. My real reason for taking this _on solo,_ is because I’m trying to impress your dad…” He trailed off into mopiness, but realized he had to drive it back. He laughed off the nerves, and she joined in, catching his infectious laughter. “And ya know, tryin’ to impress your dad has become like a fulltime _job!_ ” He added a silly face to deny any serious thoughts whatsoever. “Like, _whaaat?_ The point of stealing stuff’s to _not_ have a job!” he continued muttering as his forced chuckling died out.

She nodded, grinning ear to ear. “Well, you pull this off, and you’re in for good.” She pulled out her spyglass and began scanning the ramparts of King Trevor’s castle, matching it up to the map. “It’s what you want, right?”

“Yeah,” he answered mindlessly. He tried to focus back on the map as well, to no avail. He licked his lips and glanced back to her, admiring her in action, in her element. In the dark of another moonless night, her soft maroon leather further hid her from even starlight. The fog below made navigating difficult. He watched her. _But she’ll never know, never care_ _…_ _What’s it gonna take to get you to believe in me?_ His eyes fell away, disheartened and frankly scared.

“Know where you’re going?” Her question clashed against his reverie.

He jumped back to attention. “Yeah, uh, yeah. Sorry.” He fixed the poofy hat on his head, then gulped again and switched to a cheerful, determined voice. “I know where I’m supposed to go.”

* * *

“ _Uggghhh!_ ” Eugene groaned out petulantly. “ _Co-o-ome_ ON! She was just some dumb blonde! What do _you_ care?!”

Without looking, Stalyan threw his dagger behind her. It stuck directly in the middle of a wooden cherub’s face adorning the top of a mirror.

Eugene jumped. “Uh, ah-” He lost his voice to a whisper. “Okayyy. Apparently, you _do care._ ” He smiled crookedly and nervously, while chuckling uneasily to match. When her seething glare did not budge, he gulped. “A lot.”

“DON’T,” she warned through gritted teeth, “Ever do that again.”

“Look, I’m sorry, but…” He sighed and began walking away. “I just-”

“FLYNN!” She snatched his wrist, twisted his arm, and whipped him to the side, face first against the wall. “Did you really think I don’t care? That I don’t want you?!”

With his face smushed against the wall, he was helpless, knowing he deserved it. Yet, of course, he did not want to actually face consequences. “If you’re planning on hurting me, even to prove a point, I think you should know I have a very low threshold for pain.”

“And a girl like that, really?!”

“Exactly!” he agreed. “You know I can’t take a blonde like that _seriously_!”

“Took her far enough-”

“Well it’s not like you’ve been around!”

That was the last thing he remembered saying, before waking up on the floor with a headache. He found her again, and apologized, submissively as possible. He left himself completely open to her, and that night she pulled him back in.

* * *

“ _Flynn,_ ” Lance scolded, “That woman had nothing to do with her husband’s debt!”

_It’s not like I_ enjoyed _scaring the old lady._ “I know,” Eugene turned away, rubbing his cheek, trying to remain looking tough, and trying to forget about the incident they were talking about. “I know, but-”

“But _Stalyan,_ ” he mockingly groaned. “Yeah, yeah.”

Eugene shook his head. “ _I_ know I wouldn’t’ve hurt her, and besides, what’s done is done.” He started walking away, the woman’s coins jingling in his pouch.

“Where you going?”  
  


“Seein’ her again tonight.”

“Her?” Lance smirked. “Which ‘her?’”

“Stalyan,” Eugene sneered, not appreciating the patronization.

“Heh. And the hit?”

“I’ll lie,” he smirked and shrugged back to his best friend. “Just like last time.”

“Uh-huh,” Lance rolled his eyes. “YOU gonna at least hit _that_ tonight?”

“Hey, Lady had a headache last night! Whatcha gonna do?” he called back in good humor. His smirk quickly dissolved away into sourness once he turned away. _Anytime_ I _ask, she’s got a ‘headache.’_ _But that still doesn’t explain how sometimes I don’t even know where_ she’s _been..._

* * *

“We need aliases for the banquet tonight. Going to be mingling with a bunch of French diplomats. Do you have anything in mind?”

Eugene gulped and choked out a little laugh, brow raised. “Uhh,” he licked his lips as he hesitated. He had to clear his throat, unsure how it would come out of his own mouth, it had been so long. “Eu _g_ ene Fitz’erbert?” The G came out harder than he preferred, the H got swallowed.

Stalyan guffawed. “Just had that waiting in the wings?” But she nodded amidst continuing to laugh. “But alright, that’s good! That’s good. Nice and uptight, hoity-toity.”

Eugene grinned and laughed at it with her, uneasily. “Yeah, yeah, haha I just figured, just picked the _stuffiest_ sounding thing ever. Should fit right in, huh?”

“ _Oui, très bourgeois,_ ” she said coyly with puckered lips and appropriate accent.

“ _Faaantastique!_ ” he exaggerated with his own appropriate accent.

“British name and French accent, _Euuu-gene?_ ” she chuckled with a sneering undertone. “Pick one.”

_Yughlc,_ Eugene’s thoughts shuddered, and he let a grimace slip out, at hearing her tongue tease out and butcher that name for the first time.

“And backstory?” she switched to cooing flirtatiously.

“I dunno,” he shrugged off. “ _Crown Prince?_ ” he answered facetiously.

They both laughed even harder at that.  
  
“Sorry. Lil too conspicuous?”

“Yeah, a _little._ ”

They both sipped at their drinks, making eyes at each other over the rims of their glasses; eyes Eugene was not sure how he felt about.

* * *

“It’s not true...” In the dank stone kitchen, Eugene stepped out of the shadows from under a staircase.

“Flynn!” Stalyan gasped and whirled around.

“Is it?” His crossed arms fell to his sides, limp in shock and disbelief. “Tell me it’s not true… ”

She stepped back, stuttering, at a loss.

“Did you sleep with him?!” he suddenly yelled, echoing all around.

Stalyan froze. “It’s… _complicated._ ”

Eugene glared at her. “I thought you were supposed to be _good_ at lying.” He swiftly blew through the door to the outside, slamming it behind him.

* * *

She apologized to him. She made it up lavishly to him. She swore up and down to him. She casually reminded him about her father. She cried that she wanted him. She referenced his own unfaithfulness in their uncommitted relationship.

Flynn forgave her. Out of fear, obligation, and guilt, he forgave her. But he was fine to forget it. Eugene, on the other hand, was not as sure about himself. But, he had an idea of how to fix everything about both of them. Yes, he would make it a perfect day, and everything would magically end happily ever after.

Once her crocodile tears dried, he released her from their hug but held her hands, and knelt. All his storybooks and hubris and naivete told him this was the right thing to do, especially if he did not want to lose her to anyone else again.

“Stalyan, will you marry me?”

* * *

“ _ **ANTHONYYY!!!**_ ” Eugene stormed in from the snow right through the front door of the Baron’s castle. His breathing ragged, lungs and legs burning, he all around looked crazed, with cold sparkling sweat slicked across his beat red skin and glittering melted snow stuck about his clothes. He shoved away any servant or guard who dared to or even just happened to be in his way. Door after door slammed open, til he found him: with the Baron in his office. Both men jerked up at his intrusion, not that he cared. “ _You_ DIRTY ROTTEN LITTLE _WEASEL!_ ”

Anthony’s brow raised, slightly unexpectant. The Baron’s stern face needed not change.

“Surprised to see me?! You let loose ALL the horses! Butchya made sure to keep _one_ for yourself! Left us for DEAD with the Royal Guard! Not to mention the SNOW! Lance and I almost didn’t make it _back!_ ”

Anthony quirked a malicious smile, as the Baron answered for him. “Under my orders, Rider.”

His rage doubled and turned to him. “YOUR orders?! _W_ _HAT!?_ _!_ Lance and I are the BEST guys you got, and you’re tryna _BURN_ us?!”

“Not Lance.”

Eugene’s anger vanished and he blanched, breathless. _He knows!_ His mouth fell open and a chill ran down his overheated spine.

Anthony’s smile turned more deliciously evil, but the Baron addressed him first. “Anthony, give us a moment.” He bowed out, and closed the door behind him.

Eugene stayed frozen where he was. He gulped.

The Baron glared him down in the deafening silence. “I know what you two are planning.”

“...pl-lanning?” he gasped.

The Baron stood and took slow steps toward him, letting his size bear down on the groom-hopeful, who shrank under the weight of his presence alone. “You’re trying to steal away with my precious Stalyan.”

Eugene found some shreds of voice left to make this probable-plea for his life. “If you must know, we... _are_ very much in love- _happy,_ and yes, soon to be _married._ ”

“ _Welllll,_ you wanna _live,_ Flynn Rider?” the Baron stated, deathly serious. “You better take care of my daughter.”  
  
Eugene shuddered at the consequent warning, but at least it was a command for something he was already planning to do. “Of course.”

* * *

“So your dad wants me dead.” He kicked his foot out in the snow as they walked arm in arm. It was still very cold out. His ears were especially cold, his coat too thin, and his gloves had better not get wet.

Stalyan chuckled. “He doesn’t _want_ you _dead._ He’s just overprotective.”

Eugene half frowned and raised his opposite brow in complete faithlessness. _As always..._

She dipped her head and delicately suggested, “We could elope.”

He shrugged it off. “I’m sorry, I don't wanna _elope._ Okay?”

The pleasant walk predictably ceased and the bickering resumed for quite a few minutes.

He rolled his head side to side, frustrated. “I just don't! Not at all. Not even in the slightest bit! I've always wanted a big family wedding, and now, more than ever. WE can actually HAVE that! So _no._ I’m sorry, but my answer to eloping is NO.”

  
“Okay, fine, I hear what you're saying,” she sweetly negotiated, before switching back to whining. “But why do _you_ get to say no?! What about what I want?!”

Eugene eventually realized he had no choice but to concede; but the Baron had other plans. The big crime family patron put his big foot down, insisting on a big wedding, and instigating another rift between fiancés. This one, nobody ever made any effort to bridge.

* * *

A beam of sunlight crossed his eyes, chasing away his slumber and frivolous dream. Against what would be better judgment, in his just-woken state, he opened his eyes all the way, right away. The perfect view he had of the sky and sun burned at first, but was right there taking up his immediate field of vision.

As his body became aware of itself, a soft woman stirred at his side; but he also felt an identical sensation on his other side. He glanced, at the blonde on each side. One rested her head on his shoulder, clutching his arm. The other he had his arm around, as her arm was draped on his chest. He grinned ear to ear, then settled his head back into his pillow and closed his eyes.

Lance cleared his throat pointedly, a second time.

Eugene started, but tried not to alert the girls. His eyes darted to Lance standing above him, looking as angry as he had ever seen him. “Well, _some_ body looks _jealous._ ”

“Jealous?!” he hissed indignantly, raising a fist. But suddenly he calmed. “Actually yes, yes I am. But Flynn?! Where _were_ you before?”

“When?”

“Is _this_ where you were?! When you were supposed to meet me with a getaway zipline!”

Eugene smirked, and settled in comfortably again. “I do not recall,” he sassed.

“‘You don’t recall?’” Lance sassed right back. “Why? ‘Cause it’d paint you in a bad light?”

“Mmm,” he grinned. “Only the best lighting for this work of art, thank you.”

Lance crossed his arms. “ _Flynnnnn…_ ” he chastised.

“ _Ohhh c’mon,_ I was having a good dream.” He squeezed the stirring, still-naked girls closer to his own naked body. “A _very_ good dream.”

Lance hmphed. “I bet you don’t even know what today is.”

“Thuuuhhh day I have my _second_ threesome ever?”

“No, it’s-”

“Oh, no, I know. If they’re alright with it, sure, I don’t skeeve _you,_ man. First foursome.”

“Come on man, it’s your _wedding day!_ ”

Eugene’s eyes popped wide open. All he could see was the sun as it hit them again with the full force of its light, and all he could think was, “I can’t do this.”

* * *

“ _Euge-eene…_ ”

Eugene felt himself just waking up, but everything was too bright. _Again?_ Lance’s voice sounded so far away.

“ _Eugennne…_ ” he slapped his cheek a little.

He squinted awake and shook his head himself.

“Mannn, what happened to you?” Lance asked as they locked hands and he helped him sit up.

He moaned as he rubbed his face and looked around, remembering the last 24 hours. He had settled in to sleep in a back alley, behind a pile of trash. _But ‘Eugene?’_ “Why-? Why’re you callin' me that?” he groggily asked.

Lance ignored his question. “I thought you might not show up, but,” he shook his head. “Maaan, what’re you _doin_ _’_ _?_ ”

Eugene shrugged it off.

“ _Eugene!_ ” Lance looked around nervously, then back to him. “The _whole town_ knows. ‘Cause the Baron _told_ everyone. He wants _you._ ”

His eyes finally widened a little at that news, slowly starting to understand why his friend was resorting to another name. “Uh, uh- _what?_ ”

“He wants you _dead!_ ” he squeaked. “You. Have got. To _leave_. And this time I mean you gotta leave the _country_ _._ Flynn Rider’s good as dead here.”

Eugene gulped. “Will you come with me?”

Lance pursed his lips and frowned. “I _told_ you to get outta there. As soon as you got in. 2 years ago.”

Eugene turned away, exhausted from talking about the issue already. “It was… complicated…”

“But you _could_ have just left. At any time.”

“How?” he threw his hands up, at a loss.

“Let's see, you put one foot, in- front- of- the- _other!_ ”

He stared hard into space, unable to think of any point in time he would have had a chance to walk away. He huffed in his defense, “When would she have let m-”

“‘ _LET’_ YOU?!” Lance hissed angrily, miming pulling hair out of his bald head. “EUgene! She’s been doin nothing but using and controlling you. You finally got it through your head that _you_ don’t love _her,_ but what makes you think _she_ ever loved _you?!_ ”

Eugene looked up to his friend’s stern face. His cracked. “You were right about her the whole time… I just couldn’t see it- I didn’t wanna see it… I just thought,” he bit his lip as his voice quivered, “It couldn't get any better than that, ya know?” With a dejected gesture to himself, he corrected, “I don't think _I_ could ever do any better than that. And I thought they-...” He hung his head and shook it in despair. After a few minutes to compose himself, Eugene took a deep breath and let it go. His hands locked with Lance's again, leaning on his friend's support. “Let’s go.”

☼°*•∘❁✿❁∘•*°☼ ... ☼°*•∘❁✿❁∘•*°☼ ... ☼°*•∘❁✿❁∘•*°☼

Well, you know what luckily happened next. I stole some old crown, stumbled upon a hidden tower, where I met this weird girl with hair a mile long. She dragged me on this crazy adventure, one thing led to another, _I died_ , and when I woke up, I found myself dating _a Princess. She,_ had helped me to believe in dreams again, and _she,_ had become my _New_ Dream. And somehow, she then made my every other dream come true

There was a celebration about me finding the Lost Princess or whatever, _heh,_ but what I'm more concerned with is that I found _my home,_ in her. And after all those years and years of waiting and waiting and waiting, we both finally have a real family now, together. It's amazing what a difference 10 years can make, huh?

**Author's Note:**

> So. There you have the basic story of my headcanons about StalyanRider. Please comment/review! What did you think?
> 
> Oh, and tumblr seems to be sinking, so, I'll let people know what happens with that and/or where I end up.


End file.
